Last Family Standing

by Jennifer AlLee

  ***

  The mood around camp is somber, just like it always is before an elimination. Not even the ebullience of Jules and Duncan is enough to lift the spirits. Most of them, anyway. Jess is the exception, sitting near the fire with her father, chattering away.

  Jules welcomes me back with a hug. “What was all that about?”

  “He wanted to make it clear that he had nothing to do with bringing Duncan here.”

  “Do you believe him?”

  “No,” I say with a snort of derision. “Do you?”

  She shrugs her shoulders. “What reason does he have to lie?”

  “I don’t know. To raise my opinion of him.”

  “But why does that matter? He doesn’t usually give a flying fig whether or not the contestants like him.”

  “Maybe he wants me to join his Wolff Pack.” Oops. That was the wrong thing to say.

  Jules’s eyes grow wide, and her smile grows to match. “You’ve been paying attention to his personal life, huh? Do I sense a budding romance?”

  “Sh!” I swat her playfully on the shoulder while I look around for the steady-cam guys. I don’t see any, but that doesn’t mean they’re not close by. “There’s nothing romantic going on between us. Are you crazy?”

  “What’s crazy about it? He’s single. You’re single.” She laughs and shakes her head. “I mean, you are really, really single. An innocent attraction might do you some good.”

  I cock my head to the side and stare at her. “Who are you, and what have you done with my best friend? There could never be anything innocent about any kind of relationship with Rick. You know his reputation.”

  She nods half-heartedly. “Sure. And I also know you can’t always believe a reputation, even when it’s plastered all over the entertainment super highway.”

  “Well, I’m not interested in Rick any more than I’m interested in Duncan.” Her eyes get big again, so I shut her down before she can take us down this new dead-end street. “And I am absolutely, positively not interested in Duncan. Not in any way, shape, or form. Got it?”

  “Got it.”

  “Good.”

  A rustling in the bushes on the edge of our clearing draws my attention. I don’t see anything, but I’m pretty sure I hear a sound that doesn’t belong in the tropics.

  “Did you hear that?” I whisper.

  “Hear what?”

  “Clucking.”

  She leans away and looks down at me. “You think you hear a chicken?”

  “It finally happened. I’m hearing things. Next thing you know, I’ll start seeing things.”

  Jules tugs on the sleeve of my t-shirt and points. “You mean, like that?”

  A fat chicken with black and white feathers struts its way into camp. I hear the rustling again, and a brown chicken scurries out from the bushes. Without taking my eyes off it, I call out to the others. “Hey, guys. If we work this right, we may have dinner.”

  One sure way to cause pandemonium in a camp full of half-starved people is to point out the existence of poultry. It’s a mad dash as we try to keep the chickens from disappearing into the jungle at the same time we try to catch them.

  The possibility of fresh meat has also broken down the wall of separation between us and the Singletons. Trevor, Bob, Tracy, Duncan, and I are chasing the brown chicken. Wendy, Layla, Jess, Malcolm, and Jules are stalking the other one. You’d think these foul would be no match for ten full-grown, intelligent, hungry adults. But the birds are wily, and I’m pretty sure we look like total idiots chasing them.

  “Around that way!” Bob yells, pointing at a gap in our perimeter.

  I fill in the space, and we move in closer. The chicken is dodging like a prizefighter, its head bobbing and turning, little clawed feet moving so fast they’re almost a blur. Then it stops, and I could swear it looks me dead in the eye. Right then, I know exactly what it plans to do. It’s as if I’ve been given the gift, just for a moment, to see into its itty-bitty peanut of a brain.

  It’s going to make a run for it.

  I dive at the bird. From the corner of my eye I see movement. My fingers close around feathers. The chicken squawks as I roll onto my back, clutching it to my chest like a football. The next moment the wind is forced out of my lungs as a heavy weight lands on top of me.

  Duncan looks down at me, his chocolate eyes narrowed with concern. “I’m sorry, Nikki. Are ya okay?”

  “Chicken,” I gasp.

  Trevor squats down next to us. “It’s kind of squashed between the two of you.” He reaches to pull it away, then laughs. “You might want to let go now.”

  I relax my fingers and he extracts the bird, which is oddly calm. Bob takes a step closer. “Well, we don’t have to worry about someone ringing its neck.”

  “We killed a chicken,” I whisper.

  Duncan smiles. “That was the idea, Love.”

  What is he doing stretched out on top of me? “Don’t call me ‘Love.’ And get off.”

  “I call everyone ‘Love.’ And I’m sorry about tackling ya.” He stands up and extends a hand, helping me to my feet. “Guess we both had the same idea. Ya were just a wee bit faster.”

  “Lucky me.”

  On the other side of camp, a shout goes up. They got their chicken, too. I feel my ribs, which thankfully don’t seem to be broken, and look at the men. “Would you be game for having a meal together?”

  Bob grins. “If it means you’ll do the cooking? Sure.”

  Walking over to our side of camp, I smile to myself. Yeah, I’ll do the cooking, but wait till they find out who has to pluck and clean these birds first.

  25

  This is the best chicken ever.” Trevor moans as he licks his fingers.

  It’s really not that good. He’s just been influenced by two weeks of very small portions of very boring food.

  “Thank you for pitching in with the leftover spices.” I salute him with a drumstick.

  “And thank the good Lord for providing the meat,” Malcolm adds.

  I have a sneaking suspicion the chickens are another one of those game twists Rick was talking about. But considering what a good surprise they turned into, I definitely think there was some divine guidance behind it.

  “What do you think, Jess?” Jules asks. “Can your mom cook or what?”

  Jess looks up slowly. “What? Oh, yeah. Great chicken.” She wiggles her hips and scoots closer to Duncan, then leans her cheek against his shoulder. Without hesitation, he plants a kiss on top of her head.

  My chest tightens. She’s been more quiet than usual, and now I know why. Such a sweet, normal, father/daughter moment, and it’s about to come to an end. He’s leaving tonight, and who knows when, or if, they’ll see each other again?

  I think about the two of them as we clean up. I should be thinking about Malcolm and Layla as we walk to the final challenge area, but I’m not. Once more, I’m behind Jess and her dad, a friendly stalker taking in every move, word, and glance they exchange. Duncan’s arm lies casually across her shoulders, and her arm snakes tightly around his waist.

  “I’m going ta give all my contact information to Julia,” he tells Jess. “Phone, email, address, everything. If ya need anything, ya call me. If ya don’t need anything, I’d still love ta have ya call.”

  Jess nods. “Thanks.” Her voice quivers, and I’m pretty sure she’s crying.

  Maybe Jules was right. Jess obviously needed this time with Duncan. I should be happy for them both. And tomorrow, when he’s gone, perhaps she’ll be more open to me.

  When we’re sitting on the benches and the other two teams stand in the middle of the playing area, Rick comes out to announce the challenge. It involves balancing cups, plates, and saucers on the end of a thin, flat stick. The first team to have both its members drop their plates is the loser.

  As challenges go, this is the most nerve-wracking one yet. It doesn’t take long before sweat is rolling down their faces as they concentrate on balancing their tower of plates
. I look over at Jess, who is sandwiched between Duncan and me. She bites her lip and leans forward, as if willing her friends to keep their sticks steady. Then Rick goes into motivational mode.

  “Focus on what you’re doing. Those sticks are getting heavy. The heavier they are, the more fatigued your muscles become. Hold them steady.”

  Wendy blinks rapidly, as if she has something in her eye. Then she gives her head a hard shake, which also shakes her stick, and her plates come crashing down.

  “Wendy is out,” Rick says. “Now it’s down to three.”

  They add another plate, then another cup. They must have close to two feet of dishes balanced on those sticks, which is too much for Layla. One sharp jerk of her bicep, and the whole thing teeters and falls.

  Rick nods as Layla walks away. “It’s down to Trevor and Malcolm.”

  Trevor’s eyes dart toward Malcolm, but Malcolm doesn’t take his eye off his stack. The man is fully in the zone.

  Another plate joins the tower. Then another cup, and then, the last saucer.

  “There are no more dishes to stack,” Rick says. “Now it’s a matter of endurance.”

  Twenty minutes later, both men are still balancing their dishes. Every now and then, one will have a slight wobble. But they always recover.

  “How long do you think they can keep this up?” Jules whispers.

  I shake my head. “No idea.”

  If it were me, I’d be out by now. But those two aren’t giving up.

  A growl comes out of Trevor. Without looking at anybody, he says, “Cramp.”

  From where we are, you can see the knot forming in his arm. Just looking at it is painful. Jess sucks in a deep breath, then squeezes the spot on my leg just above the knee. Apparently, being on the edge of her seat makes her forget that she doesn’t want to interact with me.

  “Come on, Malcolm,” she whispers.

  Another guttural noise comes from Trevor, his arm shakes violently, and the dishes slide off.

  “We have a winner!”

  The moment Rick makes the pronouncement, Malcolm lets go of the stick and flexes his arm. He steps to Trevor and shakes his hand. “Good game, man.” He makes his way to the benches, kneading the muscle in his arm as he goes.

  Rick joins Trevor and calls Wendy back up. “Trevor, Wendy, you won’t be the last family standing. Grab your things and go.”

  They wave, then walk away. Rick turns to us, and I feel Jess stiffen next to me. “And now, it’s time to say good-bye to our special guests.” He smiles, and it’s one of what I’m starting to think of as his “real” smiles, not the kind he pastes on for the camera. “Take a few minutes to say good-bye.”

  We jump up and I wrap Jules in my arms. “I don’t want you to go.”

  “It’s not forever.” She squeezes me tight. “Just think of all the coffee stories you’ll have to tell me when you get back.”

  “I’m glad you were here for a little while.”

  Duncan and Jess hug quietly, gently, then separate. She moves to Jules, which means there’s only one good-bye left to be said.

  I extend my hand. “Good-bye, Duncan.”

  His lip quirks up as his brows draw down. “Oh no, Nikki. Not a handshake.”

  He pulls me into a hug, and this time, I let him. “It was good to see you again, Duncan.” The surprise is that I really do mean it.

  “Ya just remember, call me anytime. For anything. Will ya remember, Love?”

  Taking a step back, I nod. “I’ll remember.” Though I doubt I will ever take him up on it.

  Rick claps his hands. “Duncan, Julia, I’m afraid your time on the island is up.”

  They wave to everybody as they walk toward the steps that will lead them out of the play area.

  “Wait!”

  Jess runs to Duncan and hugs him so tightly, he just might have bruises tomorrow. “I’m glad I met you.”

  He lays his cheek on top of her head and sways with her. “Ya have no idea what it means to me, knowing ya exist.” After one more squeeze, he pushes her gently at arm’s length. “Now, ya go win this with your mother. All right?”

  She nods and comes back to the benches, arms crossed, hands clutching her sides as if she’s hugging herself. I want to reach out to her, finish the hug that Duncan started, but she won’t have any of it. She stands beside me, but not close enough to touch. She doesn’t even look at me.

  But Rick does. And for a second, I think he really understands how much this hurts. With a blink, that understanding is gone, and he’s once again the impartial host of the show.

  “Three families are left, but only one will still be standing at the end. Head on back to camp.”

  Jess turns to Layla for comfort, and they stay close together all the way back to camp. A hand pats me on the shoulder. I turn, expecting to see Malcolm, but I get a surprise.

  “Bob.”

  Our resident physicist walks beside me. “I owe you an apology.”

  “For what?” There are so many things . . . I need clarification.

  “For being a jerk. When we first got here, I was jealous, so I acted pretty badly.”

  He has almost shocked me speechless. Almost. “Jealous of what? My innate klutziness?”

  “No,” he says with a laugh. “Of the relationship you have with your daughter.”

  Okay, that stops me dead in my tracks. “You do know our backstory, don’t you?”

  “I do. But you still have a better relationship than I have with Tracy.” He sighs, and we start walking again. “You and Jess may not be best friends, but at least she respects you. She doesn’t put you down and call you names.”

  No. Instead, she doesn’t talk to me at all. But I get his point. “Has it always been like this between you two?”

  He shrugs. “More or less. Her mom and I divorced when she was six. She got custody, and I had the typical every-other-weekend visitation. It didn’t take long to figure out my ex was using Tracy as a way to vent all her frustration at me.”

  “I’m sorry. That must have been awful.”

  We walk in silence, until I have to ask a question. “How did the two of you end up on the show? I mean, considering her feelings, I’m surprised she asked you.”

  “She didn’t. I asked her.” Bob puts his head down and stuffs one hand in the pocket of his shorts. “She loves this show. So I applied. And when we were chosen, I told her if we won, she could have all the prize money.”

  “So you bribed her.”

  “You could say that.” He frowns. “Do you think that was a bad idea?”

  I wave a hand between us. “Hey, I’m not one to give parenting advice.”

  “But you do have an opinion.”

  “Well . . . . my opinion is that handing over a big wad of money will probably backfire. What you really need to do is spend time together and talk about your relationship. Which, I know, is easier said than done.”

  “It is.”

  Back at camp, we go our separate ways. But I call out to stop him.

  “Thanks,” I say.

  He smiles. “You too.”

  Looking up at the moon, the stars, and the bats, I can’t help but think how amazing God is. Whether it’s something big, like the moon controlling the tide, or something small, like an apology at just the right time, He knows what we need.

  If only He’d share some of that knowledge with me. Because right now, I know what I want, but what I need is a total mystery.

  26

  There is no challenge the next day. The pail is empty, which means we can do anything we like.

  It appears Bob’s apology last night was an indication of a total attitude reversal. He invites Malcolm to try out the fishing gear, and I hear them laughing as they head down to the water.

  Layla scoots off the shelter and stretches her arms over her head. “Guess I’ll try to strike up a conversation with Tracy.”

  She saunters off, leaving Jess and me alone. This is as good a time as any to do some laundry.


  Because our clothes get so dirty, and we have so few of them, we’ve taken to washing them in a pot over the fire. The term washing is used loosely, because we have no soap. It’s just stirring clothes in near-boiling water with a stick. When I’m done, I lay my semi-clean clothes over the bushes to dry, putting my four pairs of underwear in a spot where I hope the camera will miss them.

  Over at the shelter, Jess is curled into a ball on the floor with her back pressed into the corner. I know she’s in a funk. Maybe this is our time, the window during which we can have the heart-to-heart I’ve been waiting for. But where to start?

  “Looks like it might rain.” I cringe at my inane conversation starter.

  An affirmative grunt comes from the corner.

  “I’m going to get some water. Before it rains.” Could I sound any lamer? But I push on. “Do you want to come with?”

  She lets out a long, low sigh as she slowly sits up. “Sure.”

  We grab our canteens and head down the path to the fresh water station. Desperate to fill the silence, I fall back on trivia. “You know, they used to make contestants get water from a well, but after a few nasty cases of dysentery, they decided it was safer to provide clean water.”

  “I know.”

  I laugh nervously. Of course she knows. After all, Jess is the one who got us here. She’s probably been watching the show for years.

  A twig snaps behind us, reminding me of the ever-present camera operators who trail our every move. As much as I don’t want to have my conversation recorded, I can’t let that stop me. This may be the only time Jess and I are alone. Maybe, if I make normal, casual small talk, it will lead to something else.

  “I didn’t realize how much I missed home until I saw Jules. We live on the same block, so her family is dog sitting for me. Man, I really miss Ranger.”

  Jess freezes in place, and turns her toward me so slowly, it reminds me of a scene from a horror movie. “Your dog? You miss your dog?”

  What did I say now? “Well, yeah. He’s very lovable.”

  “Unbelievable.”

  This is the most emotion Jess has displayed with me. Her hands clenched into fists at her sides, eyes narrowed into angry slits, her entire body is a compressed mass of negative energy. And she’s about to blow.